I'm definitely not a virgin
by TheSparksOfMagic
Summary: Alfred F. Jones thought he was going to finally be a hero. Instead he's going to be a sacrifice for a demon.
1. Prologue

It wasn't really his fault he was stuck like this. No, those stupid village elders were the ones to blame – they'd misled him and left him to die like a lamb for slaughter. Totally deliberately! What kind of savages were these people?

At any rate, he hadn't meant to end up tied to an altar surrounded by a wall of green fucking fire. How was he supposed to know the creepy little ritual would lead to this mess? It's not like he knows every tiny detail about every weird-ass Kingdom village and its weird-ass inhabitants. Every village has its own little secrets they don't tell passing strangers; even the really heroic ones like himself. This particular one, England or something, was just weird to the extent that even he, Alfred F. Jones, was slightly as-terrified-as-shit. He hailed the Kingdom of _America_, for Feiron's sake. The Kingdom of crazy antics and exuberance, where odd was practically ordinary.

But this latest predicament?  
Alfred winced against the ropes tying him to the altar.  
This blew every 18th birthday celebration out of the water. With knobs on.

And the best part?

He hadn't even met the goddamn demon yet.

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**AN - Ok, hello! This is just a prologue of something I might or might not continue with. Send me a review or PM or contact me at my Tumblr account if you wish to see what happens next! (The title is only a work in progress. Any ideas...?)**

**Sparks**

**AN 2 - Yeah... I am continuing. Yay? Please continue to read if you want to find out more, just beware, it might take a while to actually reach this part in the story. It's going to be a long one. :)**


	2. The Kingdom of America

The Kingdom of America was a land of prosperity, indulgence and extravagance. Its King and Queen were known throughout the Earth Lands for being kind and fair, and their knights famous for their honour and chivalrous ways. Land was wide and rich, spreading for miles into beautiful fields, mountains as tall as the very skies and lakes as deep as the earth itself. Enough food could be grown for every person be they a noble or one of the townsfolk. Cotton could be grown for all their clothing, as well as space for animals to graze and live in comfort. Sheep for wool and cows for beef and milk roamed happily over the countryside, while chickens lived inside many homes, providing eggs for the families. Life was simple but life was good.

National occasions were celebrated in high spirits throughout the Kingdom, with parties and fireworks lasting long into the night. Shows of daring and skill were often performed for the people during these celebrations; jousting tournaments, sword fights and archery contests were appreciated by everyone. Other performers with more unusual skills could also be seen in bigger festivals, such as fire eaters and snake charmers. Almost every person in the Kingdom would benefit from the biggest of the occasions, for they would bring in visitors from all over the other Kingdoms and Empires. The visitors needed food, shelter and only too often a warm bath; something the inhabitants of the town could give them for a price. But people would not only buy essentials, but trivial trinkets, gifts for their loved ones back home. Any merchant or tradesman with a few pretty baubles could make an enormous profit on a Festival Day.

Alfred F. Jones was one of these skilled men. He was a metalsmith, crafting everything from delicate rings to razor sharp swords that could cut through both flesh and bone. He did a steady business in his home town of Washington, but rarely ventured outside of the area to sell his wares. With his extraordinary skill, he could've made his fortune, but he always held himself back. He didn't want to be a famous metalsmith. He wanted to be a knight, saving fair maidens (or fair gentlemen) and killing demons and dragons. A hero, like in the tales of old and the legends that crept in from the Kingdoms of Gaul and Britain.

But, Alfred was just a metalsmith, sharpening his swords in the hope of one day needing them.

It was an ordinary Tuesday when his life was jolted into insanity. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the heat turning the air into a dizzying haze. There wasn't a breath of wind and no sight of any travellers at all. Alfred sat outside the front of his shop under the shade of the awning, whistling to no real tune. He bopped his head up and down, grinding a dripping whetstone down the edge of a rough blade. The blue-silver blade shone with an almost blinding reflection even in the shade, so bright it appeared to be glowing. It was several minutes before Alfred moved any other part of his body than his head and his hand, and that was simply to dip his whetstone into a wooden pail beside him. He swirled it around for a few seconds, then pulled it back out and continued to sharpen the sword. This action was repeated every hour, and so Alfred did his job.

The day was slipping away, and yet the entire town was still. It was nearing evening before the people began to really awaken, when the heat became less oppressive and the sunlight less glaring. Children came running onto the streets, playing games in the dusty roads. Their high pitched voices made Alfred crack the smallest of smiles, eyes softening behind wire glasses. Next came their parents, scolding the children for making such loud noises and to _get back inside this very minute, or so help them come dinner time...!_ Shadows of movement and snatches of laughter could be heard behind closed doors and windows. People came into the main town with their pockets weighted down with coins, looking to buy a treat for a desert, or something pretty to wear for going out in. One of these people approached Alfred.

She was a pretty little thing, just turned 16 and still as fresh as a spring lake. Her hair was tied up out of her face and was shielded by a dainty pink sun-hat. A white dress swung and billowed below her knees as she headed towards the shop with her face set in a nervous-but-determined expression. Alfred looked up at the sound of her footsteps, flashing a Hollywood smile and sliding the blue blade under a sheet beside the chair.

"Hey there, sweetie. What can I do for a pretty gal like yourself?" he asked, calloused hand pressed under his chin. The girl blushed a little, but held her head high.  
"I'm here t' buy a brooch," she informed him with a crooked smile, "A nice one, mind. A present for a friend." She stood under the awning, twisting her dress in her hands. Alfred stood, gesturing towards the open door to his shop.  
"Come on in, Miss...?"  
"Emily. Emily Roads."  
"Come on in, Miss Roads. We'll find you summat that's perfect for your friend, I promise!"

A giddy Emily left Alfred's shop with a copper dragonfly brooch wrapped in brown paper and five silver pieces poorer. Alfred watched her go with a nostalgic smile, remembering the time when he bought a bracelet for the boy that sat next to him in class. The boy, Tim, had thought it was lovely. His mother never found out that it wasn't from a girl, but Tim's best friend.

_Funny, _Alfred thought with a touch of sadness, _I never did tell him it was from me. _Shaking his head, Alfred made to sit back down his chair, when the sound of footsteps approached the shop again. Assuming that Emily Roads or whatever her name was had come back, he plastered on his Hollywood grin, internally frustrated.

"Hey there, what do- Oh. Hello. How may I help you two fine gentleman?" Alfred had spun around to find himself in front of not a petite American teen, but two men, clearly from out of town. They wore tailored outfits that were shaped to their slim, not-worked-a-day figures (dust-covered though they were) and black high-heeled boots. The leather wasn't scuffed in the slightest and the brass buckles shone in the reddening evening light. Instantly wary, Alfred straightened his posture and lost the charming smile, instead acting as high-class as possible.

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**AN - Hi! I'm back, and yes, this is short and ends at a bit of a cliff-hanger-ish. I just wanted to get something posted so people didn't lose interest!**

**Please note, I am British, so will write with British spellings, even when it's set in what is essentially America. Also, I will write dialogue 'correctly', but any words that are actually said differently, like 'gal' or 'summat' will be spelt as such. Accents, meh. I can't write accents well enough to bother, so I won't. Please feel free to imagine the American accents.**


	3. A Lighter Sword

Men dressed as smartly as these two didn't just come to small, homely towns at this time of night. They were travellers, that much was obvious from the dust on their still unwashed clothes. But the more important part was that they were rich strangers to wear such smart clothes. Coupled with the fact that they had come straight to the only shop in the area that sold weapons, and it was clear to Alfred that these men could be dangerous, or at least should not be trifled with. Therefore, he had to show he shouldn't be messed with either, until he worked out exactly what these people were doing in his town.

The two men still stood in silence in front of Alfred, whose mouth was beginning to fall into something guarded.

"Excuse me, but I've got to ask that if you're not gonna buy anything, you should leave. I have other customer's orders to attend to as well." Alfred threw a look that was too icy to be considered at all polite towards the dirt road that led to the Travellers Inn. The shorter of the men stared Alfred up and down, thoroughly unimpressed, before turning to speak to his companion. They spoke rapid-fire in a language Alfred couldn't comprehend, arguing over whatever Alfred had said to cause such a fuss. The smaller man appeared to have won whatever he was after, as he laughed smugly while the taller just sighed. He flicked a wayward lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes and turned to face Alfred.

"No," he grunted, "We will be buying from you. May we look at weaponry?" Still uneasy, but glad the men were being polite, Alfred gestured to the open door of his shop.

"Well then, come on in. My name is Alfred F Jones, and I hope I can help you." Alfred flashed a charming smile, and he could almost feel the tension in the atmosphere.

The two men traipsed silently into the shop, heading straight for the brightly lit displays of heavy battle swords and long bows as tall as a man. Alfred followed behind, taking a closer look at the mysterious travellers. He figured that if he could tell where they came from, he might be able to tell what exactly they were doing in this town so far into the working season.

They were obviously foreign and both were from the same area. Both had sleek brown hair with a few kinks and curls, though the shorter's shone auburn in the flickering candle light. The taller of the two was older by what appeared to be a fair few years, although Alfred couldn't be sure because of the amount of scars that littered his face. The younger man had hazel eyes and emitted an air of constant irritation. From what Alfred could tell by their accents they were from somewhere near the Empire España, although he didn't think that they were Spanish themselves.

Alfred had no clue where they could be from then. Geography had never been his strong point. (And no, it wasn't that he _wouldn't_ ask, he was just still _wary _that they might be dangerous. Not _scared_ or anything.)

After watching the men for a few more minutes, Alfred headed over to where they were standing, laying the charm on thick. It couldn't hurt to butter up these wealthy men now he thought that they weren't going to kill him on the spot.

"So, gentlemen, has anythin' caught your eyes?" he asked, allowing himself to slip into his normal accent. The smaller man spoke this time, his voice much deeper and richer (_and hotter- nope not going there) _than Alfred had been expecting. "Your swords are good quality, but way too fucking heavy for carrying around with all these God damn fiddly bits. Haven't you got a normal sword, bastard?" He hadn't even faced Alfred to speak and Alfred was amazed at the mouthful of expletives he had just uttered so boldly. The taller man seemed unconcerned by all the swearing, instead nodding his agreement and glaring expectantly at Alfred.

"Well, Mr... Jones, was it? _Have_ you got a lighter blade?" Alfred raised his eyebrows, but nodded slowly.

"I have some more simple designs on the wall on your left if you wanna take a look." He moved over to where the plain swords and daggers were kept, pointing out several of his better pieces with pride.

When the taller picked up a perfectly tempered blue-steel sword and muttered in approval, Alfred puffed up in happiness. In a small town like Washington, in the work season it was hard to find buyers who appreciated a well made weapon. Since most of Alfred's customers came to buy jewelry, it could sometimes be weeks before Alfred had the chance to talk about his passion in the prettiest and deadliest of weapons, the sword. These travellers knew their blades, and Alfred was quickly hooked into a conversation with the older man about his trade. After a few minutes of chatting with the man, Alfred knew that the his name was Romulus Vargas and the younger man was his nephew, Lovino Vargas, but nothing more than that. Vargas was particular never to mention more than that, and would quickly change the subject if the conversation started heading into murkier waters.

Eventually, Lovino butted in clenching a steel-edged iron sword in his right fist, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Oi, bastard," he said with a sniff, "This sword feels unbalanced. What the fuck have you done to it?" Alfred peered up and down at him, taking in his stance and grip on the sword handle. Slowly, he began to laugh.

"Erm, sorry, but it isn't unbalanced. You're just holding it wrong." Lovino opened his mouth to protest, face contorted in anger, but Alfred continued speaking, "Oh no, it isn't your fault, this is just made very specifically. I'll show you, look." He held out his hand for the sword, which Lovino handed over with a suspicious frown.

"You see, you've gotta hold it differently than you would usually, because this is designed to have an amazing upswing. You can twist around with it real easy, see?" Alfred gripped the hilt just below the crossguard with his right hand slightly twisted and held the pommel with his left. He swung the sword in a upwards arc, let go of the pommel and swiped it hard to the right, balancing with his left arm. Grinning a little ruefully, he made a sharp slash to the left; exactly where his opponent's hip would be unprotected. Lovino's suspicion softened into a grudging respect for the young man, who was clearing much more skilled than he had given him credit for previously. This man knew how to wield a weapon.

Stopping his demonstration there, Alfred handed the sword back to Lovino.

"Do you see what I mean? It's a lot lighter than your usual blade, but it's also a bit brittler." Lovino ran his fingers down the fuller and then the sharper edge of the blade. Wincing at the bead of blood that welled from his index finger, he nodded.

"It's fucking sharp though. I'm going to buy it." Here he glanced at Romulus, who dug around in his pockets for what Alfred assumed would be money.

Instead, the older man pulled out a chain with a strangely shaped pendant hung in the centre. Curious, Alfred leaned forward, trying to have a better look. At a closer view, the pendant appeared to be an arrow made of silver, inlaid with tiny rubies that seemed to glow with an inner light. It was captivating, mysterious and so unlike anything Alfred had seen before. Alfred leaned even closer.  
It seemed to be calling to him, flicking on a switch inside of him he didn't even know existed, let alone knew was off. The arrow seemed to be trying to fight its way off of the chain, those shining rubies jumping out of their tiny prisons. Alfred could only just hear what Romulus was saying, but it sounded murky and distant.

"It allows the wearer to 'see what is there'. That is the only thing we know about this pendant, except that it is worth a lot a lot of money. We would like to trade it for your sword." Alfred heard the last words like they were a shout and they wrenched him out of the strange spell of the silver arrow. He shook his head like a dog out of water and considered the deal. The pendant was Magic; it could charm even him, but if he could learn to control its power... He could take it to a witch, see what it really was, see if he could wield the Magic hidden inside it. Magicians were powerful in this world, respected for their skills and knowledge. Alfred could be one of the great Magicians and be remembered for hundreds of years to come...

The sword wasn't worth a great deal anyway.

"Yes," Alfred found himself saying, "Yes. It's a deal."

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**AN - Well hello! I intended to post this earlier but I had to buy things for school. You may have noticed that my chapters are quite short; this is because I take forever to write as I'm essentially betaing my own work. I have no idea how the Beta system works on FanFiction and was wondering if anyone would either like to beta for me or would be willing to tell me how the system works. Thanks! **

**Sparks**


	4. Crashes

The soft silver moonlight filtered through the broken slats in Alfred's roof, leaking a stain across the sparse bedroom. Alfred himself laid fully clothed atop his bed covers, staring without seeing at the white ceiling. Flashes of colour flew around his vision like fluttering butterflies or twittering birds, twisting into rainbow ribbons when he squeezed his eyelids shut.

Thoughts seemed to twist and jump in exactly the same way, from one direction to another in split seconds.

Thoughts of burning heat, of a dark, deep red liquid dripping from ivory fangs, of a roar that could penetrate flesh and bone and the mind.

Thoughts of rough, ritualistic chanting, of a forest blackened by a layer of soot, of glinting, inhuman eyes.

These sights had been haunting him for days, ever since the two mysterious men had left the oh-so-pretty pendant in his care. He was sick and terrified of the dreams that accompanied his every waking hour, but if he fell asleep, the images didn't stop. Instead they just grew hazy and noisy.

Alfred had the sneaking suspicion that he was starting to go mad. He knew it was the pendant's doing; it had to be, it was the only Magical thing he owned, as well as the fact that the dreams started as soon as he had acquired it. Laying on his bed still, he rolled over to face the wall and the door, clutching the pendant tightly in his fist. The dawn would peek over the horizon soon, a curious creature come to investigate a new beginning. The minutes trickled over Alfred like bugs over a fallen tree, but he couldn't tell how long he had been simply staring into space. He needed to climb out of this terrible spiral of crazy and work out what to do; he was a hero of the people, he couldn't just lay around like the drunkards in the taverns! He had a job, a purpose in life that _helped _people, and like Hell if he was going to let them down.

Waiting patiently and trying to ignore the flashing images still swirling like tornadoes in his brain, Alfred toyed with the idea of going for help. He hadn't opened his shop for the last few days, and had only left the house to fetch bread and meat, but if he didn't start to pull back his business, he wouldn't have one to return to. Money, too, was going to grow tight and he would end up starving in his own home. This fact cemented an idea in the corner of his brain. He could go to see the witch in the town a few miles south of Washington, like he had originally planned, but rather than see if she could help him control it, maybe she could help him rid himself of it.

With that thought comforting him, Alfred fell asleep and unclenched the muscles in his hand. The pendant fell to the dirty wooden floor with a soft _thump_, landing in the dust and sending a cloud of it into the air. Sitting innocently in the muck of the floor, it slowly began to spin, re-churning the settling dust. The red glow emanated from the rubies again as it span through the air like treacle, but after a minute it stopped.

The arrowhead was left facing east as the eerie glow faded, but then the pendant itself started to pale, as if the metal was being scrubbed away. After a few minutes, it was barely a ghost, just a whisper of the previous elegant enigma on an ordinary silver chain.

Alfred had no dreams that night.

The morning came in a burst of golden sunlight through Alfred's old and moth-eaten curtains, filling the room with a warm feeling of contentment as he awoke fresh for the first time in a week. No dreams had plagued him at all, not even a strange flash of colour or muted scream, and for that Alfred could have cheered. In fact, he nearly did, then remembered that he still needed to find out exactly what the pendant was; one night of peace didn't mean that he was going to be free forever. A clanging noise echoed up from the kitchen downstairs but Alfred was too wrapped up in sleep to care, so he ignored it. But a plain white ceiling wasn't the most entertaining thing on the planet and Alfred had an exceptionally short attention span. Boredom grew from a niggling seed to a huge, hungry tree inside his stomach, and curiosity soon followed it, albeit sleepily.

_Probably only that stupid cat next door, _he registered vaguely,_ I'll check it out I suppose... _

Clambering out of bed with a groan and one hand threaded in his hair, he padded his way across his bedroom to the chair where he had flung his clothes the previous night without a thought. He stared at them blankly for a minute, blinking slowly to rid himself of the tattered cobwebs of his sleep that were preventing him from thinking straight. The hand not tugging knots of his bed-head reached out for the rumpled shirt without Alfred even realising it had happened, and he slipped it over each shoulder with more than a little difficulty. As he finally managed to dress himself without completely ruining his outfit by punching any holes through it, another crash (although it should have been called a crashing tinkle, as the sound was recognisable as shattering glass) crawled up through the wood of the door. This noise finally shocked Alfred out of his it's-too-early-in-the-morning-for-this-shit daze and he stood up ramrod straight, straining to hear any more clues.

_Come on Al, it's just the cat. It's got in somehow, broken some stuff in a panic. You can shoo it out, then get some breakfast. Right? Let's go then!_

He crept across the room without putting his shoes on, easing the door open without a sound. The carpeted hallway muffled the gentle padding of Alfred's footsteps, but he still grabbed the rough sword he kept by the entrance to his bedroom, just in case. The occasional loud bang continued to float up, becoming louder as Alfred made his way to the kitchen.

He stood in front of the closed door, sword clutched so tightly in both hands that his knuckles were as white as spider's webs and his nails gouged half moons into the leather of the grip. Noises that were too quiet to be heard before were loud now: huffing breaths; grunts of pain; footsteps; the odd curse in a strange language.

_So, it's not the cat at any rate... _

Alfred took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with air in order to calm his shaking arms and sweating hands. This... intruder would regret doing, well, whatever they were doing, in his house!

Still grasping the sword by the worn grip, Alfred kicked the door open, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Get the fuck out of my house, asshole! You have no idea who you're- OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

Alfred's kitchen was not what anyone could call small, although it wasn't the largest in the world either. However, it was by far the largest room in his house, taking up the majority of the ground floor. Cupboards lined all the walls in uniform rows, some too full to close properly and where packet edges spilled out of the small gaps in the doors. An elegant oak table stood proudly in the centre of the room with 6 hand crafted chairs tucked neatly underneath it. But it was dwarfed by the sheer size of the creature that sat on top of the table, swinging its tail in undulating circles.

Although its body was mainly humanoid and appeared to be male, its arms and legs were covered in a layer of light green scales and huge yellow bat wings that sprouted from its shoulder blades were pressed up against the ceiling. A ruff of skin the same colour and texture as the wings mimicked hair and fell to the nape of the creature's neck.

At the sound of Alfred's screech it span around to face him and its eyes burned an unearthly yellow. A red mouth full of long curved fangs hung open, a purpling forked tongue sliding through the gap between the front two. Heaving breaths pushed its barrel chest up and down and Alfred felt every single drop of blood drain from his face individually.

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AN - I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long but I wanted to concentrate on schoolwork for the first half term, which pushed fanfic writing to the bottom of my to do pile. However, now I can write again!

But seriously. I can't apologise enough. Also, when did this turn into some crazy fantasy thing, it was supposed to be more normal for at least a little while...


End file.
